


Shattered/Mending

by Bead



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Epiphanies, M/M, Post Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a mission gone wrong, John's left with a question.</p><p>Originally published November 2008</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Implied violence and grave injury which happens off screen. Paragraphs in italics are memories. 
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely gnomi.
> 
> Marvelous artist chkc drew me a picture to go with this. I've gotta figure out how to upload it.

John stands, fists clenched as if that’s going to make it easier, beside Rodney’s hospital bed and thinks, actually, it’s not so much of a thought as it is a body-wide query of “what was _that?_ " He’s felt this way, all churned up and needy ever since, pushing it down until everyone was off the planet and out of the infirmary, but now? John tightens his hands until his joints ache. He does not do needy. 

He’s slightly drunk with exhaustion and his eyes have that pickled, gritty feeling and Rodney is not waking up anytime soon. _Rodney._ Even inside his head, John can hear himself whine. 

~~~~~

_“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Rodney said, very clearly, turning his face into John’s neck. Rodney’s grip on his shirt was so tight that the seam was biting into John’s armpit. John just moved closer, held on tighter, trying to keep Rodney warm until help came._

_“It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” John whispered, willing it so. Rodney snorted weakly and shivered. He pulled back a little, whimpering despite the pain meds John had given him, and John tried to reel him back in, but Rodney put a wet, red hand on his cheek and said, “No, listen.”_

~~~~~

John sways and finds his fists have uncurled. He watches himself slip his hand inside Rodney’s lax one, fitting the web of flesh between thumb and index finger to Rodney’s, like a handshake, like a friend. _What did you do to me?_

John carefully sweeps his thumb over the soft bit of skin. Somehow, it makes him feel less surreal.

“He’s gonna be okay.” 

It is only through will, exhaustion and lots of practice that John does not startle at Keller’s voice. He stares at her, seeing her face is as tired as his own, but freshly showered and made-up. 

_She left. She was able to leave,_ he thinks woozily. He is clearly out of practice of being…of wanting…because his brain is just not absorbing…things…very well. And his feet will not take him away from here.

It’s been a long time since he felt this breakable and fierce, and John thinks his cracks might have started when … and then Jesus, _today_ Rodney, with just the slightest - like it was the easiest thing in the world - and it feels like every breath could be the one that splits John wide open. 

He wishes Rodney would hold his hand back. 

And he should be talking, probably. This a part where he should be talking but John just stares at Jennifer Keller and wishes she would go away, because his head hurts and Rodney is sleeping.

She nods, shiny lips nearly flat, eyes flatter. “Really. Going to be fine.” 

John nods back and stubbornly does not let go of Rodney, but pulls back enough that his fingertips are just resting on Rodney’s skin. 

“Stupid luck, huh?” she jokes mirthlessly. “So soon after that thing in his head.” 

“Rodney’s tough.” John does not know why he is arguing. 

“More than he thinks,” she says, fiddling with his IV. “You should probably get some rest, Colonel,” she adds, in a way that is both pointed and offhand.

John shrugs. “I’ve got a few things to discuss with Dr. McKay here.”

Keller rolls her eyes and her dimples appear briefly. “He’s not going anywhere. Unless you like discussing ‘things’ while he’s sedated.” She arches a challenging brow. “Probably easier.” 

John glares at her with as much energy as he possesses. She tilts her head, lips flat again. “Fine. Sit down before you fall down, then.” 

“He kissed me,” he wants to shout after her and squelches a nearly overwhelming urge to stick out his tongue.

He traces a finger over Rodney’s hand, because now that he’s started, John’s fingers want to know this skin. “You gotta get it together, buddy,” he whispers. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

John’s mouth still feels the imprint of Rodney’s lips. If he leaves - which he does not want to do - he might just walk far enough to believe nothing happened today, that Rodney hadn’t thought he was dying and made the effort to _say_ something, to leave something, to mark John – like the past four years hadn’t made enough of an impression - with his lips and fire and love, as clear and sharp and wrenching as a bloody handprint on John’s cheek. 

He pulls up the chair and curls his fingers around the touchstone of Rodney’s wrist. He waits.


	2. Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney wakes up

Rodney woke up so incredibly sore and tired that it was too much trouble to groan. Therefore, it was understandable that it took him a moment to realize that a) not dead b) back in Atlantis and c) could not move his left hand because it was trapped under some sort of restraint and a large black-brown hedgehog mop thing that must be John’s head. 

He tugged weakly and swallowed a couple of times to soothe his dry, sore mouth and throat. At some point in the last couple of hours, he'd been on a respirator. It was likely he'd be in a lot of pain, soon. But? Alive.

“Mmph?” John said, tightening his hand around Rodney’s wrist as he sat up, “Rodney?” 

“Hey,” Rodney whispered – though not much sound came out - and swallowed again. God, that hurt. 

“Hang on.” John got up to get the bowl of ice chips waiting on a little table thing and frowned at it, hefting the spoon to show that the bowl was mostly water. 

Rodney couldn’t help but make an impatient noise. John looked at him from under his lashes, frowning, then, got sort of a funny look on his face as he fished one of the remaining thin chips and offered it to Rodney, his fingers gentle and cool against Rodney’s mouth. 

It felt so good that Rodney moaned a little, but it melted almost instantly and, groaning, Rodney opened his mouth to ask for the bowl, because that little bit was _so_ not going to cut it. 

Before he could speak, John slipped another chip between his lips and then another, watching Rodney with an odd, soft look on his face. He touched Rodney’s cheek with cool, wet fingers, which felt so nice Rodney leaned into it. He remembered putting his own hand on John’s face and snuggled to fit into the curve of John’s palm, both selfish and suddenly shy, just in case this was all he could have; John being nice to him after he.... 

John’s thumb stroked, feather light, across his cheekbone. “That’s all the ice,” he said after clearing his throat. “More?" Rodney nodded.

“Need anything for pain?” John stroked his face again and Rodney sighed. So nice. 

“In a minute.” 

“Okay. I’ll just.” 

“I meant it,” Rodney croaked as John started to turn away, fumbling for John’s hand. John took it quickly, blowing out a long, relived sigh.

“Good,” he said thickly and stared at Rodney, exhausted and wrecked. There was a little spot of dried blood next to his left ear. 

Frowning, Rodney tugged on his hand and John leaned down, eyes wide and breathing fast. His hand shook this time when he cupped Rodney’s cheek and kissed him so sweetly that it made Rodney’s eyes sting. Rodney kept his eyes closed for a moment after, overwhelmed.

When he looked up, John was standing stiff and tall, Rodney’s hand curled against his chest like he didn’t want to give it back. He had a terrified smile on his face that looked hopeful around the edges. Rodney knew the shades of John’s smiles. Cool. “Yay,” he whispered. 

John snorted, eyes bright but big smile brighter. “Ice.” He hefted the bowl. “Don’t go anywhere.” He quickly pressed a kiss to the back of Rodney’s hand, ears bright red, and with a squeeze, let go and was gone in a way that told Rodney that he’d missed something. Blinks were starting to take a long time. 

He gave a snort of his own and let his eyes stay closed, drifting a little as he waited for John to come back. He needed to rest up.


End file.
